


What You Are in the Dark

by Gone_Elsewhere2



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/F, Intoxication, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gone_Elsewhere2/pseuds/Gone_Elsewhere2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change when no one's watching, don't they? (Takes place between Zero Saints Thirty and the rest of SR4.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Are in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeverwinterThistle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/gifts).



The phone rings twice before Viola DeWynter's voice answers.  
"What is it?"  
"I wanted to talk to you about something," the Boss says.   
"I'm listening."  
"Come on, Viola."  
"What?"  
"It's no fun if we do this over the phone," she says. "I'm in the penthouse." After Cyrus Temple turned the Saints' penthouse headquarters in Sunset Park into a heap of smoking rubble, the Boss had managed to wield (abuse) her considerable influence as the new "hero of Steelport" and force STAG to compensate. Once the restoration project was complete, however, she took it as her own private residence. It is here she has lived for the past year, between casual outings with MI-6 to foil Cyrus Temple's terrorists. The Boss returned only days previously after managing to stop a nuclear bomb from detonating over Washington. She still isn't sure how she did it.

"Fine," Viola says with a sigh. "I'm on my way." The Boss ends the call and rises from her seat on the leather couch, making her way to the glass door leading to the poolside and stepping into the night air. For a city based purely in prostitution and gang violence, the skyline is remarkable. It has a nicer air to it than Stilwater. It feels cleaner, more sophisticated, somehow -- but perhaps that was just the aftereffect of Phillipe Loren's elitist Syndicate, a group that had been worth nearly as much as the Saints name itself. From the streets, it is a different place, lined with beggars and cheats and thugs, patrolled regularly by corrupt cops and gangbangers. It isn't a nice place, but it doesn't need to be for a person like the Boss. How welcoming a city is to you doesn't matter when you have the guts to break it and make it your own. The Boss gazes into the poolwater, her reflection visible by the pale underwater lights. She certainly hasn't let herself go, she thinks. Her brown hair is perfect as always, held in place by plain metal clips that were once plastic butterflies. The careful attention she puts into her face every morning pays off as it appears flawless, the tiny scars and marks of battle hidden and insignificant under layers of makeup. The suit she wears is a stark white, the tie her own royal purple. She smirks at her own reflection, a sort of private "fuck you" to the people in Stilwater who never knew she existed. 

The Boss walks around the perimeter of the pool and stares down at the streets, awaiting Viola's regal Temptress, a car worth more than most prime Steelport real estate. After a few minutes the car appears and slides into the underground garage of the penthouse. Mere moments later, the Boss hears the elevator ding from inside of the building and Viola steps out, the sharp click of her confident walk unmistakable. She opens the glass door and looks out at the Boss.  
"Let me ask again," she says drily, "what is it?" The Boss smiles.  
"I've been talking to Pierce and Shaundi," she starts out.  
"Oh God," Viola says, unable to stop her eyes from rolling.   
"Look, I know you don't like them," the Boss says, annoyed, "but they're my fucking teammates, they've been with me for a long damn time."  
"Continue," comes the response, Viola attempting to mask her exaspiration.  
"I'm thinking of running for office."  
"You'd never take Mayor Reynolds when it comes time for reelection."  
"I wasn't talking about mayor," the Boss says, smiling again. She waits for a moment as the shock registers on Viola's face.  
"You..."  
"Yeah."  
"An established gang leader, head of the United States?"  
"Stranger things have happened."  
"Name one!" Viola says before realizing what came out of her mouth.  
"You don't wanna go there."  
"It's crazy. There's no way you can win this."  
"The country loves me," she says. "The country loves us. The Saints saved America." Viola hadn't personally taken part in the anti-terrorist operation to take down Temple, but she had certainly heard all about it. "Saints May Be a More Accurate Name Than We Thought", national headlines read. "Gang Leader and Fellow Pop Culture Icons Stop Destruction of White House". It was preposterous. Viola had been busy enough attempting to manage the corpse that was once the Morningstar, but anyone of value had either joined the Saints, died, or tried to kill her for her betrayal of Killbane. The Morningstar are dead now, she thinks, but she isn't going to let the Boss know that. She can't bear the inevitable "I told you so".   
"So is that all?" Viola says after a few moments.  
"Not exactly," the Boss says. "Do you want in?"  
"In?"  
"The way I see it we're winning this thing one way or another. Do you want into the Saints Administration?" She ends the sentence mockingly, but it's clear she means every word.  
"Look," Viola sighs. "You know I was only working with the Saints to get rid of Killbane. I'm not exactly looking for work." Maybe the last part is a lie, but what the Boss doesn't know won't hurt her.  
"Hey, you have time to think. We have years."  
"I guess so," she says. "I'll get back to you."  
"You're not going anywhere yet," the Boss says, almost teasingly. "Come on, it's been too long since I got drunk properly." Viola considers this.  
"Oh, what the hell."

~

After the wine starts flowing, it only takes an hour or so for the conversation to turn to Johnny Gat.  
"I just miss him," the Boss says. "He was my best friend." Her voice is flat and honest. She empties the rest of the bottle into her glass, her third of the night. Viola is silent. Wine frees up tongues, but it seems to Viola that it frees up her mind, as well, and she begins to consider things she thought long buried and dead. The woman sitting next to her -- the one she was drinking with, talking with -- killed Phillipe Loren. Crushed him under a steel ball. No remains were found to bury, just small chunks and dark stains. Phillipe Loren, the man who took in Kiki and Viola like they were people, the man who taught them how to run a business with ruthless efficiency. The man who cared, even if he acted like a dick on the outside. He was what Kiki and Viola needed, a source of stability to collect and refine them. And he is gone now, because of the Saints. Because of Johnny Gat. If he hadn't been so _fucking stupid_ and just gone with his goddamn friends then maybe Phillipe would still be around.

Maybe Kiki would still be around.

"It's Johnny's fault," Viola says. Her voice is slightly slurred. Despite all she's been through, she still can't handle her wine as well as she'd like to, and she has matched the Boss's exorbitant drinking tonight. It takes the Boss a moment to register what she said.  
"What did you say?" she says. Her voice is less angry and more cautionary, a warning sign not to tread down this path any further. Viola is too drunk to care.  
"If he hadn't been...such an _idiot_..."  
"Don't talk shit about Johnny," the Boss snaps. Somewhere in the back of Viola's mind, she realizes that on ice this thin, without alcohol she would very likely have a black eye at this point.  
"I just...Phillipe is dead," she says, dully.  
"He was a bastard," the Boss mutters without a second thought.   
"This is why I don't want to work with you," Viola spits. The Boss has the gall to invite her for a drink just to insult Phillipe. Why is she even here? She knows how the Saints do things and she doesn't like it. She's been done with them for too long, outside of their sphere of influence. She's forgotten what the Boss is like. Something like watered-down surprise appears on the Boss's face.  
"Didn't he treat you like shit?" she asks.  
"Of course not!" Viola says, angrily. "He was like a father to Kiki and I!" she's standing at the table now, her face red. Her usual composure is gone.  
"I'm...sorry," the Boss says earnestly. "I didn't know." Viola slumps back into her chair. Her glass becomes unsteady in her shaking hands and falls to the floor. The Boss waves dismissively.   
"We'll get it taken care of some other time." She attempts to pour another glass only to realize the wine is gone. "Fuck."  
"We could get more..."  
"Probly not a good idea," the Boss mutters. She fumbles internally for the previous topic of conversation. "Tell me about...Kiki." Viola is surprised. Never would she think the Boss would express actual concern about other people. Besides Johnny. Fucking Johnny Gat. And she wants to know about Kiki. Kiki didn't have to die.  
"Kiki died...because of Johnny...because of the Saints...because of _you_ ," Viola says. Despite her slightly blurred vision, the Boss takes a moment to look Viola over. Her head is cradled in her hands and her sleeves are rolled up unevenly. Her glasses are cast aside on the table. The Boss knows Kiki had died, of course; it had not crossed her mind, however, that the Saints could be at fault. Ordinarily, she wouldn't particularly care. But something about Viola tonight sparks some kind of pity in her. She lets out a long sigh.  
"You...know," the Boss says, again struggling for proper words. "Johnny wouldn't have wanted to have that happen."  
"Johnny Gat loved death," Viola responds. She says his name like the curse it is to her.  
"He had someone who...he really liked a lot once, and she got killed." The Boss remembers the look on Johnny's face as he stepped into the room. She remembers the thin spatter of blood against the painting, the flowers detached from their stems littering the floor. The body in the chair. "He wouldn't...want that for someone."   
"Aisha," Viola says.  
"And after what happened to Johnny, I...I wouldn't...I'm sorry that happened to you, Viola." An actual apology straight from her mouth. The rational part of Viola in the back of her head is shocked. This ruthless woman hellbent on destruction, apologizing for the death of Viola's sister. The room went silent for a few moments as both women considered what had just taken place. The Boss sighs again.

"Come on, let's call a...thing. And get you home." Viola nods weakly. The Boss stands, unsure of her footing, and helps Viola up. From the upstairs bar, the two slowly make their way down the staircase, stumbling only twice, and make it all the way to the living area before Viola falls to the floor.  
"Fuck it," Viola says. "I'll sleep on the couch." The Boss nods and reaches down, helping her up once again. Miraculously, they make it to the leather couch without incident, and Viola collapses on top of it. Her eyes begin to close just as the Boss slips in her footing and falls to the floor beside her.  
"Shit. Help me up," she says. Viola absentmindedly reaches down, attempting to help the Boss up, not expecting the other woman's strength. Moments and several curses later, she finds herself atop the Boss, the two of them splayed on the floor between the couch and table. The Boss snorts and Viola can't help but laugh herself. She begins to get herself up when she looks down at the other woman's face.

Fuck, she's hot. The thought crosses Viola's mind in an instant and she wishes it didn't immediately, her face starting to burn up at the very idea. What is she even talking about? This is the Boss of the Saints, notorious criminal, callous and warlike. She isn't...Viola isn't into that kind of thing. But then again, maybe that's it exactly. Now, laughing on the floor, she doesn't look callous and warlike. She's softer, somehow, less intense. The alcohol does her good. Viola studies her face, the slightly smeared eyeliner, the trademark dark lipstick. She has to admit it to herself: the Boss doesn't look bad. The Boss is looking back up at her now, amused.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Fuck it," Viola says as an answer. Moments later she's leaning down and her lips are pressed against the Boss's. Her eyes widen momentarily, but she clearly reciprocates, her hand clumsily raising to rest on the back of Viola's neck. Moments later, they break apart, and this time the Boss is looking quizzically at Viola's flushed face.  
"Viola," she says simply, the tone in her voice clearly pleased. "I didn't..."  
"Me neither," Viola responds, and then they're kissing again, and this time Viola's mouth opens and their tongues intertwine and holy hell she shouldn't like this this much. They break away again, and then Viola begins unbuttoning the Boss's coat. The Boss shrugs it off, and together they work off her vest, and then her shirt. The Boss tugs at Viola's shirt and she pulls it from over her head. Things go more slowly than either of them would have expected; though neither of the two are strangers to sex, it's been longer than either cares to admit...and though the alcohol might help with some things, fine motor skills is certainly not one of them. Focusing intently from beneath Viola, the Boss manages to kick off her shoes and pants, and Viola removes her skirt without too much difficulty. Freed of the trappings of bulkier clothing, the women intertwine again, the Boss's hands running up Viola's back, Viola's running through the Boss's hair. 

It's not too long before the Boss manages (somehow) to undo Viola's bra. Despite her blatant intoxication, Viola reciprocates the action much more skillfully. As their breath gets warmer and heavier, both women shun their clothes completely. The Boss shifts her weight, sitting and leaning against the couch, spreading her legs to the other woman. Viola leans down and puts her face between them, her tongue tentatively exploring the folds of skin between the Boss's legs.  
"Christ," she breathes. Her fingers intertwine themselves with Viola's hair as her tongue enters the other woman, her hands wrapping around the Boss's thighs. The Boss's breath is staggered, broken, as she pushes herself into Viola, and it feels as though it's mere moments before her back arcs and she succumbs to orgasm. Her mind goes blank save for the shock still ringing inside of her that this is actually happening right now, with Viola of all people, and it's so good.

The Boss moves herself then, still panting, to Viola's other end, and Viola turns herself over, laying her head back. The Boss spreads her legs and tentatively slides her middle finger into Viola. Without waiting, she then inserts her ring finger, and begins to stroke Viola inside. Her body shudders initially and she lets out a low moan. She moves her hand away and bends down, her tongue tracing small circles on the other woman's clit. Viola cries out softly, then resumes moaning as the Boss's tongue continues, sucking softly. Seconds later her body shudders a final time and she sighs, lying still.

Feeling more awake, the Boss looks Viola in the eye.  
"So," she says smoothly, "let me ask you again: do you want in?"

Viola can't help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to to the lovely NeverwinterThistle for proofreading this and giving me the little confidence boost I needed to post it!


End file.
